Dessert
by IsisIzabel
Summary: What about dessert? *Spoilers thru episode 4.03. Pairings: Garcia/Morgan, Garcia/Kevin fairly anti-Kevin, though.*
1. Chapter 1

**Dessert (1/2)**

By: IsisIzabel

--

Penelope Garcia's hand was on the door handle before the car—an older model Jetta—pulled alongside the curb.

Kevin Lynch twisted in his seat from behind the wheel, fixing her with a bright smile. "So!" he started loudly.

Penelope was still staring out the windshield; her eyes focused on the black Tahoe with tinted windows parked three cars up.

Kevin frowned slightly and leaned over, nudging her shoulder to get her attention.

Somewhat startled, Penelope turned, blinking as if she had just remembered where she was. Her hand was still on the silver handle.

Kevin tried another smile, this one playful and gently leering. "Dinner was fun. How about dessert?"

Penelope's lips curved into a smile of regret. "Actually…"

The shift in Kevin's demeanor from that single word was palpable. His expression turned skeptical, his shoulders sagged, and he turned to stare out the windshield. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "What's going on, Penny?"

She had never particularly enjoyed that nickname on his lips. Her mother had called her that, and her mother was the only one she would _let_ call her that as a child. Even as a girl she had relished the individuality that the name _Penelope_ would bring. It was a fairly antiquated name by today's standards. She had been the only Penelope in school, the only one in her graduating class. _Penny_ was common. Millions of pennies existed.

But tonight wasn't the night for that discussion. Not with Kevin already on edge, and she wasn't in the mood for a fight.

"I'm just tired," Penelope tried to explain.

"You're _always_ tired," Kevin objected dryly, still not looking at her.

She bristled. "In case you hadn't noticed, it's been a shitty week," she retorted. "After what happened to Emily—"

"Emily's fine," Kevin pointed out quickly.

"_Fine_?" Penelope repeated, her tone a mix of angry and horrified. "She was nearly beaten to a pulp by that sadistic, psychotic, mother fu—"

"OK, OK," Kevin relented quickly, finally facing her. He put a tentative hand on her shoulder. "I just miss spending time with you is all."

Penelope nodded stiffly, desperately needing to get out of this car. "I know. It's been a crazy couple of weeks."

Kevin took her hand gently, threading their fingers. "Maybe we should take that vacation we've been discussing."

"Maybe," she answered noncommittally. Sighing, she squeezed his hand. "I really am tired. I just need sleep. I'm sure I'll feel more like myself on Monday."

"Monday?" Kevin questioned as she dropped his hand and opened the car door. "I was thinking we could go the movies tomorrow night." He grinned at her, hopeful again. "Maybe you won't be so tired tomorrow."

Her lips tightened in a thin line. She got out and leaned into the open door. "Can I call you?"

Kevin turned away from her. "Sure."

"Good night," Penelope said softly, not waiting for a reply before shutting the door. She had barely turned away before the car pulled away from the curb, the tires chirping as Kevin hit the gas too hard.

"Well, _that_ went well," she muttered to herself, fishing her keys from her purse. She glanced down the row of cars parked in front of her complex again, her eyes again falling on the SUV.

She hurried up the walk, lingering for a moment on the stairs leading to the door. It had been almost a year since she had lay bleeding on those steps, but she was almost certain she could make out the faint outline of where her blood had pooled.

"_There's nothing there."_

The memory of his voice, warm and reassuring, came back to her as it always did when she let her imagination run away from her.

"_No," Penelope argued. "I can see something."_

"_Honey, there's nothing there," Derek argued gently, one hand on her arm as the other clutched several bags of groceries._

"_But—"_

"_Hotch made sure the cleanup crew got it all," Derek swore. "It's all just a bad memory now. It can't hurt you."_

_She wasn't convinced._

_Derek leaned closer to her, his breath tickling her ear. "I promise."_

_She believed him. It was that simple with them. He wouldn't lie to her, couldn't lie to her._

"_I'm being silly, aren't I?" She smiled at him weakly._

"_Not silly," he countered carefully, readjusting his grip on the groceries._

_Sighing, Penelope shook her head. "Let's get those inside. I'm going to make you the best lasagna you've ever had." She started up the stairs._

"_Are you sure you should be cooking? It's only been a few weeks since you were shot, sweetheart. I don't think you're supposed to be lifting anything over five pounds."_

_Penelope turned at the top step, grinning at him. "That why I keep you around. For the heavy lifting."_

_He was still chuckling as they walked inside._

Had that really happened just shy of a year ago? It seemed like so many things had happened since then, like she had aged so much.

Penelope opened the door to her complex and shut it just as quickly, making sure the lock was secure. She started the climb to the third-floor apartment, ignoring the elevator. She had made a deal with herself that she was taking the stairs from now on in an effort to incorporate a bit of exercise into her routine.

Plus it gave her extra time to think of what to say to him.

Penelope had seen Emily the night before, making it a priority to check in with her friend. She was mildly surprised to find Reid and Hotch already with Emily when she arrived at Emily's condo, but the surprise quickly faded.

They were a family. They took care of their wounded and rallied around them in support.

The team's plane had touched down the previous afternoon and Hotch ordered everyone to take a three-day weekend. They needed to recoup and recover from what had happened. Emily was ordered to take it easy for a week.

Since then Penelope had talked to everyone in the team. She had seen Rossi this morning at the BAU—he was grabbing a notebook from his office and then heading to see his sister for the weekend. She had spoken for several hours with JJ the night before, and then she had seen Hotch, Reid, and Emily.

Nothing from Derek.

She had tried his cell and it went to voicemail all day. She had driven by his house after work, but his car was gone.

But she didn't panic. What happened to Emily hit them all hard, and Derek was dealing with it his own way. He would come to her when he was ready.

Penelope made it to her door and slid the key into the lock, opening the door.

He was ready now.

Derek sat on the couch, watching the evening news in the dark.

She wasn't shocked by his appearance in her home; she had given him his own key when he all but moved in with her after the shooting. She had never bothered asking for it back, and he never bothered offering it.

Penelope shut the door, locked it, and tossed her keys in the table by the door. Her purse fell to the floor. "Hey," she greeted nonchalantly, striving for ordinary.

Derek turned off the TV and the room was plunged into darkness, the only light coming from a pink lava lamp on the end table.

"Hey." His voice was rough, raw. Like it had been dragged over glass shards.

Penelope walked around the furniture in her living room until she came to stand before him.

Derek's eyes were unreadable as they traveled up her body, assessing her, before meeting her gaze. A muscle ticked in his jaw as it clenched.

Penelope clasped her hands in front her of her body, her heart aching for him. "You wanna talk?"

Derek regarded her for a moment and stood suddenly, fluidly. He looked down at her, his eyes dark and burning. He reached for her hand, watching carefully as their fingers laced together of their own accord. He frowned, thinking.

Unable to stand the silence, Penelope found her voice, "Derek—"

She was cut short when his lips came crashing down on her mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

Penelope's head was spinning; she couldn't catch her breath as Derek's mouth slanted over hers. His tongue swept her lower lip, seeking entrance which she willing granted. His hands tightened on her hips, backing them towards the couch.

_Too much, too fast_, Penelope's brain warned, even as she tried to ignore the alarm bells ringing in her head. It felt too good. She had waited too long for this. They _both_ had waited too long. The back of her knees hit the couch and buckled. They were falling.

Somehow Derek landed gracefully on top, one leg off the couch and his other knee gently nestled between her thighs as his arms supported the bulk of his weight over her. He finally tore his mouth away from hers and dipped to the column of her throat, greedily attacking it.

Sucking in a sharp, desperately needed breath, Penelope focused on making her world stop spinning.

She had imagined this moment for years. How many times had she fantasized about _this_ scenario in her mind? In so many ways, it surpassed her wildest expectations. She knew Derek would be a good kisser, but not even her imagination could prepare her for the way his mouth felt on her body. The way he seemed to intuitively know _her_ body.

And yet, it wasn't as fulfilling as the fantasy had been. It felt hollow. This wasn't right.

"Derek," she mumbled, her hands holding his shoulders. "Derek."

He ignored her, nipping at the base of her neck and then slowly soothing the offended spot with his lips.

"Derek," she tried again louder. She applied some pressure to her hold on his massive shoulders. "Stop."

It was the magic word. Ever the gentleman, he immediately stopped his assault on her, pulling back far enough to look in her eyes.

She could see the switch in his gaze as it shifted from lust to shock. He pulled himself up and rocked back on his feet, finally perching on the far arm of the couch. He covered his face with his hands and sighed deeply. "Aw, man."

Penelope sat up, slower than him, self-consciously running a hand through her mussed hair. She reached out and touched his knee. "It's OK."

Derek's hands fell away from his face and she could see the self-loathing there. "No, it isn't," he replied bitterly, standing up. "Shit."

Penelope scrambled to her feet as he started for the door. "No, Derek, wait!"

He stopped and turned, shaken. "Penelope—"

"If you apologize, I may slap you," she warned, cutting him off.

Derek stopped, unsure of what to say next.

"Before you start beating yourself up, let me remind you that I was a willing participant with what just happened," she went on carefully. She took a few hesitant steps towards him. "Don't think you came in here and took advantage of me."

He arched an eyebrow. "I don't think you gave me a key to your place so I could attack you when you get home."

Her lips curved into a playful grin. "No, that was an added bonus."

He didn't smile back. "Not funny. I had no right—"

"Honey, stop," she ordered quietly. "Just stop it. Instead of trying to apologize for things you don't need to apologize for, why don't you try telling me why you're here."

Derek's gaze dropped as he tried to think of an answer that would make sense.

"Does this have anything to do with what happened to Emily?" she prompted calmly after a few moments of silence.

He looked up, meeting her gaze. The expression in his eyes was tortured. "I couldn't _do_ anything."

"You did everything you could," she argued back. "You did your job and got Emily out when the time was right. She told me you were the first one she saw when the police came in."

"It wasn't enough," Derek retorted. His eyes flashed. "I could hear that guy beating the hell out of her and I couldn't do a damn thing."

She closed the distance to him in three steps and caught his hand in hers. "Listen to me: no one blames you for what happened to Emily, least of all Emily."

"Maybe _I_ blame me," he answered darkly. He shook his head and pulled away from her, retreating.

It was pointless, and she knew it. Derek was never one to shy away from blame. Quite the opposite, really. He seemed to think he could bear the weight of the world on his muscular shoulders.

He didn't even see how it was killing him.

"So where do I fit in to this?" Penelope asked quietly. "Why did you come here? Why did you … kiss me?"

His eyes slid shut in agony. "I'm so sorry about that."

She fought down the urge to throw something. "Dammit, Derek, stop apologizing!"

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "I went to a bar."

"A bar?"

He nodded. "I just needed to feel something for a little while. Trash the outside of my life the way the inside felt trashed, you know?"

She did. She had done it herself before.

"I had a few drinks. There was this … girl."

A slow knot began to tighten in her stomach. Maybe she didn't want an explanation.

"We were dancing, kissed a couple times … she was going to come home with me. We were out at my car when I realized …"

She waited, holding her breath. "You realized what?"

He met her gaze levelly. "It wasn't enough. I didn't want some meaningless fling that I'd regret in the morning. I wanted more."

"So, you came … _here_."

"I came here," he repeated slowly, rubbing a hand over his head. "I put her in a cab and started driving. I was here before I even realized where I was going."

Penelope tried to form a cohesive, coherent thought. "So … what does this mean?"

His gaze was soft as it swept over her. "Penelope, you know how I feel about you."

"Do I?" she asked, unsure.

His eyes narrowed, worried. "Yeah. Of course you do."

"We're friends, Derek. You've never given me any indication you wanted anything more than friendship."

"Friends," he repeated stoically. "After everything we've been through, you think we're just … _friends_?"

"What else would you call it?" Penelope shrugged, helpless to explain the jumble of emotions that were raging through her.

"I don't … I don't know. But not just friends."

Sighing, she turned away from him and headed for the kitchen. She needed a drink.

"I love you."

Smiling to herself, she turned. "I know. I love you, too." She kept going for the kitchen, opting to start a pot for tea rather than going for the vodka she knew was in the freezer.

Derek was at her side before she heard him move, taking the teapot from her hands and placing it back on the stove. His hands found her shoulders, turning to face him. "No, baby."

His hands went up to cup her face, ensuring she was looking at him. "I'm in love with you, Penelope Garcia."

Her jaw went slack then, her mouth falling open to form a small 'o' of shock. "Derek—"

He leaned forward, chastely kissed the tip of her nose and then kissed her mouth, his lips moving agonizingly slow and feather-light against hers.

"I love you," she breathed when he finally pulled back.

Derek grinned then, his smile contagious as it illuminated his face. His hands circled her hips, sliding around her body and pull her flush against him. He lowered his forehead to hers, resting for a moment.

She chuckled softly under her breath making him look down at her, expectantly waiting for an explanation.

She was still smiling as her index finger traced the contour of his jaw. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to say that?"

"Probably as long as I've been waiting to say it."

"You always have been too stubborn for your own good," she grumbled good-naturedly.

"Baby—" He was cut off by the shrill ring of her cell phone.

Frowning, Penelope pressed her finger to his lips. "Hold that thought."

He playfully nipped at her finger as she started to sidestep him. Laughing, she hurried to her discarded purse and located her phone. She glanced at the caller ID and froze.

It kept ringing in her hand.

"You gonna answer that or what, woman?" Derek teased, leaning a hip against her counter.

Her eyes found his, anxious.

"What?" he pressed, all traces of humor gone as he came to her. "Penelope—"

She held up the phone so he could read the ID:

**Kevin**

Derek paused and the phone chirped once, the sound echoing in the room as alerted them to the missed call.

Penelope cleared her throat, setting the phone down. "I guess I need to talk to him."

"Yeah," Derek said stiffly, guarded. "If that's what you want."

Her head swung to look his him, amazed. "I want _you_. But I owe it to Kevin to tell him to his face that we're done."

Relief crossed his dark features. "When?"

"Tomorrow," she promised, turning her phone off.

"I might hold you to that." His fingers laced with hers.

She smirked at him. "Please do."

Derek watched their hands together, enjoying the contrast for a second. "I guess I should go."

Penelope sighed loudly. "If you must."

He laughed, kissing her cheek. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"I'll call you after I speak to Kevin."

Derek nodded and opened the door. He paused in the doorway and lifted his hand, something small and shiny dangling from his fingers. "Want this back?"

Penelope looked at her key. She kept her expression placid as she gazed up at him. "That depends. Are you planning on surprising me like tonight again?"

He glanced at the key in his hand and then back at her. He smiled broadly. "Probably."

Her voice dropped an octave. "Then you should _definitely_ keep it."


End file.
